


you've got mail

by llewyndavis



Category: Pacific Rim
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M, UH so technically there's newt/tendo, but it's not endgame and it's not very important
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-02 19:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llewyndavis/pseuds/llewyndavis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A friend of mine texted me "Newton and Hermann's correspondence sounds like the plot of You've Got Mail, except it's not anonymous AOL chatting" and then "WRITE ME A YOU'VE GOT MAIL AU", so I, uh, did. Except it IS anonymous. It's more AU than I meant for it to be because I rewatched the movie two days ago!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. love, uh... finds a way

Newton Geiszler has never been a morning person. In fact, he's grown up quite the opposite -- he's fairly certain he was nocturnal between college graduation and his first hire. He can't remember most of that four-month stretch, however, aside from several embarrassing job interviews and that one time he threw up in Herc Hansen's car. Awesome.

He's been dating Tendo Choi since university, which is cool, and comfortable, and he pretty much covers rent for both of them. Newt, unfortunately, has never been in love with him -- except when he makes coffee. He would marry that guy for his fucking coffee. He'd marry the _coffee_ if he could.

The thing is, Newt has never particularly liked the word "love," and can't apply it to most of the people in his life. His mom, no. He likes her, and he's pretty sure she likes him (though it's hard to tell), but there is a distinct lack of love between them. He and his dad have always been pretty tight, but there's a disconnect there. Maybe it's that Newt is more intelligent, or that his father disapproves of some of the bigger decisions Newt's made over the years.

The closest he ever got was with his uncle. He hates him, now, for fucking leaving.

Newton Geiszler has never been a morning person, but SpaceChampion89 always has, apparently. "He's late today," Newt thinks, tucked up against the arm of the couch with his laptop open before him, a knee held tight to his chest. He's moved the coffee table so that it's no longer parallel with the couch, and his Mickey Mouse mug with _his_  tea is sitting near the edge, getting cold as he waits.

And waits.

And _waits_.

He's just about ready to log out of the chatroom and climb back into bed with Tendo, tea abandoned in favor of warm, glorious sleep, when his pink ears (it's really cold, okay) are met with the sound of someone signing on. " _Hello_ ," he says aloud, stretching out his legs and pulling his computer into his lap. He only has one contact. He only has SpaceChampion89.

 

_**chaostheory:** Good morning, sleeping beauty._

_**SpaceChampion89:** I was working._

_**chaostheory:** I don't believe you._

_**chaostheory:** You still would have said hello._

_**chaostheory:** What was it, then? Date gone sour? Party gone sweet? Are you hungover? Do you have any new tattoos I should know about?_

_**SpaceChampion89:** Who's to say I don't have old tattoos you needn't know about?_

_**chaostheory:** ..._

_**chaostheory:** Holy shit, do you?_

_**chaostheory:** And I've been picturing you as the stuffy, adorable professor-type this whole time. The thought never even crossed my mind._

_**chaostheory:** I bet you have a fucking tramp stamp_

_**SpaceChampion89:** I haven't any tattoos, for God's sake, I was simply reminding you that you'd have no way of knowing as much._

_**SpaceChampion89:** Were I to get one, there would be no reason for you to "know about" it._

_**chaostheory:** Well, jeez, I thought we were being flirty this morning._

_**chaostheory:** It appears that I was mistaken, Mr. Grumpy Gills._

_**chaostheory:** Seriously, though, you should get one. My name or something._

_**SpaceChampion89:** I do not know your name. How would I manage that?_

_**chaostheory:** You would do it, though. You didn't shoot the idea down._

Newt leans back, smiling against the brim of his mug and taking great pleasure in knowing that SpaceChampion89 drinks this particular flavor of tea, and that he's probably having some right now, so it's like they're _kissing_. Sort of. Somehow.

He's struck, momentarily, with immense guilt -- he's doing this with Tendo just in the other room, he's having an intimate conversation with someone that isn't his boyfriend, on his boyfriend's couch. But he spots his brand new copy of Pride and Prejudice underneath the television and that draws another, softer smile from him. _Champ's favorite book. What a nerd_.

No one has to know that he's read it twice since purchasing it four days ago.

 

_**SpaceChampion89:** I apologize, I had to rescue the toast from burning. And the flat from burning down._

_**chaostheory:** Cute._

_**chaostheory:** It's fine, I was being a total space cadet, anyway._

_**chaostheory:** How do you like it?_

_**SpaceChampion89:** Pardon?_

_**chaostheory:** Your toast. Jam? PB?_

_**SpaceChampion89:** I've been cursed with an insatiable sweet tooth. Nutella._

_**chaostheory:** I'll remember that._

_**chaostheory:** Go enjoy your toast. I'll be here when you're finished._

_**SpaceChampion89:** I'd rather not._

_**SpaceChampion89:** ... depart... quite yet. I'm rather enjoying your company._

Newt's cheeks hurt from beaming. He takes a sip of his tea in an attempt to tame his smile, but it's entirely in vain.

 

_**chaostheory:** As always, right?_

_**chaostheory:** I'm a treasure._

_**SpaceChampion89:** Are you incapable of taking me seriously?_

_**chaostheory:** I thought we weren't flirting._

_**SpaceChampion89:** I never said that._

_**chaostheory:** I don't want you to "depart", either._

The delay between replies is enough to make Newt nervous, but not enough to make him ditch the conversation (which he has done on more than one occasion). He chews on his left thumbnail and waits for the screen to tell him that the other person is writing. Too much too soon?

 

_**SpaceChampion89:** You make my miserable life worth living._

_**SpaceChampion89:** I could not be happier to have met you._

_**SpaceChampion89:** Thank you._

**_SpaceChampion89 is now offline._ **

****

Newt sits and stares and works his mouth like a fish out of water. That -- _that_ , he was not expecting. Naturally, this is when Tendo chooses to join the living, and pads out to the living room, stark naked. This is to be expected. Newt quits Skype but leaves his laptop open, so as not to arouse suspicion.

"Dude, it's fucking freezing in here, how are you even doing that?" Newt asks, hoping Tendo doesn't notice the waver in his voice. Tendo waves a hand and pops open the refrigerator to grab a bottle of orange juice. He drinks it right out of the thing, what a _dick_.

"You know I'm like a human furnace, man, we sleep in the same bed. You never shut up about it then," Tendo says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and putting the juice away. "What were you looking at when I came out? You looked like you'd seen a ghost."

Newt takes pride in how quickly he comes up with a plausible excuse. "You wouldn't believe who died on Game of Thrones last night," he offers, finally shutting his laptop and reaching for his mug.

"Uh, yeah, I would," Tendo responds, yawning around the last couple of words. "Everyone is fair game on that show. They will all die. And so will we."

"Uplifting."

"Fuck off. And clean up, dude, your clothes are all over the place," he sniffs. "I'm going to work, and _you_ are going to work on making my apartment visible again."

"I hate you."

"Love you, too, babe."

Newt forces a smile and waits for Tendo to exit stage right before he lets it go again.

 

_"You make my miserable life worth living."_

_Miserable?_

_Newt is going to have to do something about that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's nearly 8am and I haven't been to sleep yet! I started writing this and then I couldn't stop, and it might SUCK (most likely) and it's definitely too short. The next chapter will be more action and less instant messaging, and hopefully I won't be wrapping up at 7:46 in the morning.
> 
> Thank you for reading! c:


	2. call me doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Hermann aren't always the brightest bulbs on the tree.

He's called in to work a few hours after Tendo's gone, and he immediately regrets having taken a nap on the couch in lieu of a shower. He stumbles around the apartment and makes a bit of a mess (a bit _more_  of a mess, sorry, Tendo) in his haste to make himself look presentable, and remembers that he's forgotten his keys just as the door clicks shut behind him. _Dammit_.

This is one job he can't be late for, and he finds he doesn't mind. Teaching in New York City isn't easy by any means, and especially not when you're a substitue, and _especially_  not when you're as "eccentric" as one Newton Geiszler. It's not that the kids don't like him -- quite the contrary. It's that the other teachers have no respect for him, and he assumes it's due to his refusal to conform and pull a Machiavelli. He sits alone at lunch.

There's a new guy. He's not exactly _nice_ \-- he's a little prickly -- but his passion for teaching is much like Newt's, and Newt sort of digs that about him. He still wears a name tag, even though that stopped being a requirement weeks ago, and Newt thinks he might dig that, too. He actually finds it... endearing.

Which is not a word one typically throws around in regard to Mr. Gottlieb. He's... he's not mean, per se, and not entirely unlikable, he's just... _difficult_. Newt has to set goals for himself in order to make the awkwardness that settles between them more tolerable. ( _Today I'll make him smile._ ) He wouldn't call them friends, as he _is_ brand new (and nobody seems to be able to remember his first name), but they take turns at the Weird Kids Table, and Newt thinks they could actually share it one day.

Maybe.

Gottlieb is in the office when Newt arrives. He isn't met with a cheery greeting or a smile, even; either of the above could result in Newton's immediate death, because _fuck_ , that would be unsettling as shit. This guy isn't really one for pleasantries. He's more of a "grunt hello if you address him first" kind of person. And Newt _shouldn't_ like him -- not when he's spent his entire life surrounded with loud, warm people, and this guy is literally the antithesis of "loud" and "warm" and sometimes "people" (who wears their fucking glasses on a fucking chain at this age, _c'mon_ ) -- but he's inexplicably drawn to the stiff old bastard.

He always has to initiate the conversation. Which is fine, you know, Newt likes to do that. He's always enjoyed having that power. It's just -- he knows that Gottlieb is full of interesting information that he's likely very interested in sharing. He knows that he is brilliant unlike any of the other teachers, probably even unlike Newt, and it isn't exactly easy to ask someone about astrophysics without them questioning your motives. So he waits, and he waits, and he waits for the other man to go off on a tangent, or to bump into a curious student close enough for Newt to hear, or even leave a set of his notes behind in his rush to be somewhere else. He wants to pick his brain, he wants to bicker with him about science and math, he wants to let him talk until his mouth goes dry.

He wouldn't call them friends, but he'd like to. He'd _like_  to call them friends in front of their coworkers and show them that even outcasts like Gottlieb and himself can find Their Person; can find living, breathing human beings with which to eat their lunch.

"How long have you been here? You look tired," Newt says, back to the other man as he stirs his coffee. He can practically _feel_ Gottlieb tense up across the room. Newt knows how that goes. Being addressed by anyone outside of his small circle of "friends" has more often than not been a negative experience.

He catches Gottlieb sighing with his whole body when he turns around and can't help smiling into his cup.

"I've not had a pleasant morning, Newton, and I'd much appreciate not being _mocked_ in addition to the rest," he mutters, and moves his glasses from where they are hanging around his neck to the end of his nose. He refuses to look up, even though Newt knows he wants to.

"Wait, you know my first name? How do you know my first name? I wasn't mocking you. I don't mock you. We argue, we're evenly matched, I wouldn't pick on someone I could say that about," he says all at once. "You know my first name?"

"Yes, I know your first name," he says. And he's looking at Newton, suddenly. It's over the top of his glasses, judgmental, but it still counts. Newt lifts his eyebrows and gives him a minute to continue, because he _is_ going to continue, right?

"C'mon, dude, I clearly don't know yours. Save me the embarrassment and yourself the disappointment and tell me, please."

There's that sigh again.

"My name is Hermann, but you will refer to me as Dr. Gottlieb in front of others, do you understand?"

"I understand, man, Jesus," he says on an exhale. "That means I can call you 'Hermann' in private?"

"If you manage not to forget it a second time, yes, that is fine."

"Ha, ha, very funny." Hermann -- _Dr. Gottlieb_ \-- picks up his cane from where it's resting against the table and climbs to his feet with a pained noise Newt supposes he wasn't meant to hear. He adjusts his glasses and his tone to one a bit more suitable for goodbyes. "Good luck with the kids. It can get tough around Christmas break."

"I don't have another class," Hermann says, cringing visibly and eliciting an obnoxious grin from the shorter, seated man (who is going to let him struggle through this sentence on his own, thank you very much). "I... simply did not... wish for you to have your coffee... alone." He taps his cane against the floor once in a pretty blatant attempt to force the attention away from his face, which is getting quite pink.

Newton isn't cruel, but he is enjoying this. Maybe they are friends. Maybe good ol' Hermann is harboring a bit of a crush. Either way, Newt can't stop smiling at him and his rosy cheeks, and the wave of sadness that washes over him when Hermann scoffs and leaves the room is vaguely concerning.

He's late to his first class. He and the kids have a good laugh about it. ( _"If you don't have to be on time, how come we do?" "I am on time, little dudes, don't let the clock tell you any different."_ ) He makes it home before Tendo and rummages through his messenger bag for a good five minutes before he realizes that his keys are inside.

Newt is too tired to remain on his feet, too out of it to call for help, and too lonely to wait for access to his laptop before contacting SpaceChampion89. It's been a long, confusing day, and he's sure Champ won't want to chat, anyway, after what he said earlier. He opens up an email on his phone and leans back against the apartment door, sliding down until his ass reaches the ground.

 

_to: **spacechampion89@gmail.com**_  
 _from: **chaostheory@gmail.com**_

_Thank you for what you said this morning. I've thought about it all day._

_Hey, I hope it helps to know that the feeling is mutual. I was fairly fucked before I met you. Things aren't so bad anymore. Thanks._

_Don't disappear on me, okay?_

 

He hits 'send' and shuts his eyes for a few seconds; he can't tolerate the hallway lights anymore. It's only when Tendo is unlocking the door and carrying Newt inside an hour later that he realizes he didn't open them back up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay!
> 
> Thank you so much for all of the kudos and kind comments. I hope you all like where this goes! c:
> 
> I have a Tumblr, by the way, so feel free to come yell at me if I go quiet for too long. Or just come and talk to me! I'm always around!
> 
> You can find me at g0ttlieb.tumblr.com or owenharper.co.vu. nwn


End file.
